


Motives

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli’s left in charge of protecting Fíli, which basically means from suitors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motives

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “when Thorin has to leave for (important matters), Fíli is left to fare for himself to deal with the mass of blunt and quite agressive suitors that try to get to him. But Thorin is no fool and he knew something like this would ha´´en, so after leaving he left Kili in charge to care for their golden heir who is more than willing to fiercely protect him...with a little help from Dwalin maybe. +1000 if Kili has some hidden reasons for not wanting any suitors to get close to his brother, leading to eventual Fili/Kili” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=24098004#t24098004).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There are far more dwarves clamouring for an audience with Erebor’s royalty than there ever were before Thorin’s trip, and not a one of them is fooling Kíli. They all claim to have important matters to discuss with the crowned prince that simply can’t wait until the king returns from the Shire, despite the fact that Fíli’s resolved to change nothing of consequence in their uncle’s absence. So naturally, Kíli scrutinizes every one, borderline interrogating them on their true intent before they ever make it past the guards.

He knows what they really want, of course. Kíli’s no master of subtlety, but it doesn’t take a genius to see ulterior motives when it comes to his brother. Fíli isn’t just next in line for the throne, he’s also single, young, and _gorgeous_. His golden hair is enough to make him stand out in crowds, but his trim figure and handsome face make it all the worse. His hair never looks unkempt the way Kíli’s does, his beard is lustrous and soft, and his braids are always on point. Add to that that he’s intelligent and fast and deadly with a dagger, and it’s only natural that he’d be Erebor’s prize bachelor. 

Which is precisely why Kíli has all his ‘visitors’ held back for inspection. ‘Suitors’ would be a better word, but most of them are smart enough not to let Kíli get a whiff of their true intent. Which is why he grills them so ferociously before even sending Fíli word that they’re there. The younger dwarves with little political knowledge are easy enough to pick out, but the older ones are what really get to Kíli. They talk a good game about other matters, but it sickens Kíli to see the hungry glimmer that comes into the eyes of dwarves twice Fíli’s age at the mention of his beauty. 

The last dwarf left in the lineup—after all but three being barred from the throne room since they started showing up this morning—is one of the former category. Despite Kíli’s growls that no such audiences are permitted, the young fool continues to loudly insist he could win the prince’s heart. The more Kíli refuses to let him through, the more aggressive he gets, until Kíli has him dragged out of Erebor. Kíli tells Dwalin, “No more.” Dwalin nods. To his credit, he’s been almost as protective over their charge as Kíli. 

Kíli’s a wild animal when it comes to his brother. Thorin probably didn’t intend for Kíli to bar off the throne room like this, but he should’ve known when he left Kíli in charge of Fíli’s ‘suitor situation’ that Kíli wouldn’t take it lightly. He’s equal parts exhausted and exasperated when he finally lets himself into the throne room himself, needing one of Fíli’s warm smiles to bring him back up. 

And it’s time to retire for the night, and Kíli wants to escort Fíli back to his rooms. They haven’t had nearly enough time together in Thorin’s absence, but they can at least fit in these little things. Moments alone with Fíli are a vital part of Kíli’s life, and the thought of someone else filling those spaces in his place is almost nauseating. 

He wants Fíli to be happy, of course. And he knows that someday, he’ll probably have to give his brother up to a spouse, a family, something that _Kíli isn’t a part of_ , but it hurts too much to think about, so he always tries not to. There’s a tinge of guilt as he steps onto the path leading to the throne—perhaps he turned someone down today that Fíli might’ve wanted. But then he sees another dwarf standing before Fíli’s throne, and all that guilt is swallowed up in anger. 

Kíli breaks into a run instantly, shouting on his first step, “You! Get away from the prince!” 

The stranger, a stout redheaded dwarf in rich robes, swirls his head around in surprise. Fíli, sitting stiffly in his throne, also turns to look, and Kíli can instantly see the discomfort in his brother’s body. That feeds into Kíli’s own jealousy—this dwarf violated their sanctity and _made his Fíli uncomfortable._ On his second breath, he’s shouting, “Dwalin! In here!”

Even as Dwalin’s just pushing through door, it never having fully closed before Kíli started yelling, Kíli’s reached the central platform. He steps instantly in front of the throne, pushing the suitor back, and the other dwarf actually has the nerve to look annoyed at Kíli. “Really,” he huffs, pompous despite the enraged warrior in front of him, “there’s no need for all this raucous, I was merely introducing myself to the prince—”

“By sneaking in here? How did you do it?” Kíli interjects, already racing through other entrances in his head. If there’s a hole in his security, he’ll find it, and if any of his guards let this fool through, he’ll fire them. The dwarf splutters but doesn’t have time to answer. 

Dwalin’s reached the platform by now. The suitor looks at him with sudden wide eyes—Kíli might not look imposing enough, but Dwalin certainly does, especially when he glares so very deeply. The suitor looks to the prince, but Fíli says nothing, and over the suitor’s sudden protests, Dwalin asks Kíli, “Out, I assume?”

“Yes, and find out how he snuck in, if you can,” Kíli answers, never taking his eyes off the intruder. 

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Dwalin snarls, looking just as offended that someone manage to get past his guards. He takes one step forward and grabs the suitor by the scruff of his fancy robes, dragging him right back down the pathway. The suitor splutters and flails but is no match for Dwalin’s strength, and soon the door slams behind them, leaving the brothers alone again, like it should be. 

Fíli lets out a sigh of relief, and Kíli turns to him, leaning forward to do a quick sweep of Fíli’s person. Thankfully, nothing looks out of place, but Kíli still asks, full of concern, “Are you okay?”

Fíli grins. His posture’s relaxed again, the tension the stranger induced gone from his attractive figure. “Better, now that my overprotective brother has saved me from another suitor.”

Kíli gets another pang of guilt for crushing all of Fíli’s prospects, though Fíli doesn’t look particularly put out over it. Kíli admits, “That’s all for the day.” And Fíli doesn’t ask what happened to the giant lineup that he had to walk past to get to his throne. That acceptance will help Kíli get through it tomorrow, when he knows he’ll be just as on guard. He’ll tell Fíli it’s because Thorin left him that duty, but deep down, he knows it’s because it’d destroy him if Fíli ever left him to marry someone else. 

He knows he can’t have Fíli for himself. It doesn’t make his desire any less strong. He offers a hand and forces on a smile, and Fíli wraps his fingers around Kíli’s palm, letting himself be gently tugged out of the throne. 

When they’re standing flush together, they’re a little too close, just like always. Fíli doesn’t pull his hand out of Kíli’s, and Kíli doesn’t let it go. Fíli’s palm is warm, his skin soft in some places but rougher in others, used to scrambling through the wild and gripping weapons. He deserves this break now, sitting on the throne and being pampered. Sometimes Fíli says that Kíli deserves it just as much, but Kíli’s fine with the way it worked out. He’s not sure someone like him should have any power. 

Fíli says a quiet, “Thank you,” and squeezes Kíli’s hand. Then he turns them towards the door that Dwalin left through, and they walk back, steps falling into sync too easily. It’s a long walk back to Fíli’s chambers, but it’s better that way: it gives them more time just to be together. 

Though they rarely speak of it, Kíli misses the days when they shared a room before they had this vast mountain. He misses the days even before that, when times were tough and they had to share _everything_ , including a bed. There were times on the road when it seemed like they were, when they kept their sleeping bags so tightly together that they’d occasionally roll under one another’s covers. It wasn’t so bad, sleeping on the hard ground or in cold caves, when he had Fíli’s body heat to cuddle against. It’s hard to sleep some nights, now that they have a wall between them. It doesn’t feel _right_.

But at least no one else is in Fíli’s bed. That’s something. 

They’re quiet for most of the walk. It’s enough to have each other’s presence. Kíli _tired_ , more emotionally than physically, and it’ll be good to climb into bed, but he wishes he could drag Fíli there with him. 

Their rooms are right next to one another. Though Fíli is the crowned prince, Thorin’s never treated them any different, and their chambers reflect that. Kíli’s is first, but he walks right past it to Fíli’s door, where they have to stop. The guards are stationed around either end of the hall, so they have a small window of privacy here, though if they shouted, the cavalry would come rushing in. Fíli turns to his door, but then he turns back, his hand still in Kíli’s. 

He hesitates, then notes quietly, “You look sad.”

Kíli doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been able to lie to Fíli, and he can’t say what he wants to, that he’s _jealous_ , and Fíli should have no need of another mate when the best one for him is right before his eyes. Kíli shrugs lamely, trying to look away. 

Fíli asks softly, “Is it because other people are courting me?”

That brings Kíli’s attention sharply back. He can’t help but wonder how Fíli means that. He couldn’t know. Or he shouldn’t, anyway.

He smiles, just as sadly as he’s accused Kíli of being, and he mumbles, “You’ve been so busy with my suitors that you’ve never stopped to worry about your own.”

Kíli almost sighs in relief. Instead, he snorts. “I have no suitors.” Who would want him, when they could have Fíli, who’s so like him, but so much _better_? He’s never resented Fíli for that. In a way, it’s easier that no one wants him; it gives him the time and energy to focus on making sure that Fíli’s alright. 

Fíli puts a hand on his shoulder. Kíli glances down to look at it, and when he looks back, Fíli’s leaning into him. There’s a split second where Kíli knows exactly what’s happening. He could leap away, push Fíli back, but he’s frozen in shock and stands still, while Fíli’s face tilts, the side of his nose brushing along Kíli’s, and then their lips are together. 

It’s a short, chaste kiss, closed mouthed. Fíli’s eyes are closed too, and Kíli’s follow a heartbeat later, lashes fluttering against his cheek on instinct. He doesn’t have to lean in; Fíli’s right against him. Fíli’s lips are warm, soft, a little moist, and Kíli wants to pry them open. 

But Fíli pulls back first, leaving Kíli’s eyes to open and his mouth to part in shock. 

“I’ve always wanted you,” Fíli breathes, still closer than any brother should be. “But I couldn’t be sure you wanted me back. ...Until I saw the way you so fiercely protected me from everyone else.” A smile pulls at his lips, and Kíli wants to smile back. He thinks he might be blushing, partly from being so foolishly obvious and partly because his brother just _kissed him._

He can’t stop himself from diving forward. He grabs the braids on either side of Fíli’s face and uses them to jerk him forward, slam their mouths together, Kíli’s tongue insistently squirming between Fíli’s lips, until Fíli’s gasping and giving him entrance. Kíli explores everywhere, laps at Fíli’s tongue and the twin rows of teeth, the walls of his mouth, the roof—until Fíli’s tongue starts wrestling him back, and Kíli becomes preoccupied in that, his lips constantly opening and closing and tilting from side to side to accommodate. His hands slide back through Fíli’s hair, his arms wrapping around Fíli’s shoulders, and one of Fíli’s arms loops around his waist. The other must be reaching back for the doorknob, because a second later, the door’s pushed open. 

Fíli drags him through it, breaking the steady stream of kisses only long enough to mutter teasingly, “Don’t tell Thorin?”

Kíli chuckles back, “Don’t tell Thorin,” and disappears into Fíli’s rooms.


End file.
